


Shades of Fiery Red and Royal Blue

by uglywombat



Category: Captain America (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Attempted Murder, Explicit Language, F/M, Happy Ending, Murder, Nomad Steve Rogers, Nomad!Steve, Reader has abilities, Reader is Empath, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 14:14:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20472389
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/uglywombat/pseuds/uglywombat
Summary: Seeing Steve Rogers lock lips with a certain blonde sent our Reader to abandon her Captain and friends. However,Morocco has a funny way of bringing old souls together.That and a spectacular opportunity to rub salt into old wounds.





	Shades of Fiery Red and Royal Blue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [nomadsteve4rawmeplease7](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=nomadsteve4rawmeplease7).

> This was a request from nomadsteve4rawmeplease7. Firstly, darling, I’m so sorry this took me so long to get to. Honestly, in the beginning, I struggled, however, Red Sea Diving Resort hit and it all just fell into place. Ari was an absolute fucking feast and my head is still mush. 
> 
> Secondly, I could not have done this without @sophiria. She is an absolute Nomad!Steve nut and literally listened to me rattle on for weeks over this. She is the other reason this one-shot actually made it into existence. 
> 
> Okay, so I have taken some liberties with the timeline because we were unfairly robbed of Nomad!Steve. Now, fair old warning, our reader and Steve are petty AF, and that is purely selfish on my part because 1. It’s my type of sense of humour and 2. Petty Steve is my favourite (besides Bucky/Sam…). They say some nasty shit to each other so if you’re really not into that I would really suggest giving this a miss. 
> 
> Nomadsteve4rawmeplease7 I hope I did your request justice.

Long, lithe, nimble fingers caressed your shoulder as you took in the view of the Red Sea from the luxurious, palatial private villa deck. Deft, determined lips met your hot, sun-kissed skin as you took in the fresh, salty air. The return of that dark grey cloud.

Your emotions had long not been your own. Born an empath, your mind was a highway for other’s feelings and emotions, people’s aura’s presenting themselves in colours. 

“It’s absolutely beautiful, Alex,” you sighed as he wrapped his arms around you. “I couldn’t imagine a better place to spend our honeymoon.”

Alex chuckled, spinning you around, towering over you as he pressed you against the barrier, the salty breeze tickling your skin as the sun dipped lower, making way for a balmy night. His Scandinavian skin glowed in the setting sun. “I’m not here to enjoy the view, my darling. Come, let’s make use of the double-shower before dinner tonight. I ran into a couple of old friends at the bar earlier and they have invited us for dinner.”

Your interest peaked and you held onto his wrist firmly as he made to move back into the villa’s bedroom. “Old friends, darling?”

“Yes, Natalia Lewinsky and her husband, Samuel. I met Natalia a long time ago in Moscow. We have had some business dealings in the past. You will like her. She’s a firecracker.”

You watched the Nordic hunk strut into the villa and you fought to take a shaky breath, your skin crawling at the burning trail his fingers and lips had left on your skin. 

Commander Alexander von Strucker, second in command of HYDRA turned to hold your gaze as he made a show of stripping off his shirt. He gifted you one smirk before retreating into the en-suite where he would no doubt be waiting for you.

You had been in a relationship with Baron Wolfgang von Strucker’s nephew for the past six months, feigning a hot, heavy, passionate and all-consuming love affair. The fool was oblivious to the trail of dead HYDRA bodies left behind as he went about his duties as commander, bringing you along as his new conquest. 

He had been the one to push marriage. You could not refuse, your cover at risk. So, despite your heart longing for home, your family, Steve, you had walked down the aisle with HYDRA’s most influential and sightless commander. 

“Are you coming, my love?” Alex’s honey voice ran through the villa. You grit your teeth and joined your husband in the shower. For Bucky. 

The full moon danced on the Mediterranean Sea as you allowed Alex to lead you to the resort’s Michelin star restaurant, the sand soft between your toes. It apparently boasted Morocco’s finest cuisine as well as hosting Kings, politicians and stars alike. If you were guaranteed one thing tonight it would be a good meal at least before a long night of Alex pounding into you, faking orgasm after orgasm, your mind wandering to the blonde man who held your heart. 

Your long kaftan dragged behind you, occasionally picking up in the breeze and tickling your ankles. 

The restaurant was exquisite. Intricate gold etchings, handcrafted columns, marble flooring, over the top chandeliers. And you instantly ached for home. Your crappy apartment in Brooklyn, the cheap pizza you would collect on your way home, the terrible beer Steve insisted was good…

The maître d' greeted you politely before ushering you to your table on the deck. Your heart stilled as you spied the brilliant red hair and manly god sitting at your table. Of course. Natalia and Samuel.

“Natalia, my darling,” Alex called out, his arms stretched out in that over the top, jovial manner which made your skin crawl. 

Natasha Romanoff gracefully stood up and pulled Alex into a warm embrace, her eyes cheekily meeting yours, the wash of sultry red and buttery yellow crashing against your walls. That bitch had known you were here. Your eyes met Sam’s as Alex introduced you to your friends.

You sat beside Alex, his hand possessively moving to rest on your thigh as you peruse the menu. He was anything but subtle in his covetous, antiquated hold on you. Well, in his mind perhaps. Truthfully, he was oblivious to your true intentions. 

Your name slipping from Sam’s deep, rich mouth drew your attention from the menu. “How did you two lovebirds meet?”

You smiled that big toothy smile that told Sam you were not happy with their intrusion. “We met in Paris actually, at a gallery opening.”

“It was love at first sight,” Alex interrupted, his hand coming to grasp your neck greedily, his lips pressing against your collarbone. “I saw her from across the room and just knew I had to speak with her.” You let out a breathy laugh before allowing Alex to press his lips to your briefly. 

“And what about you two? How did you two meet?”

Natasha, sorry, Natalia, looked lovingly into Sam’s eyes. She was good. “I’m afraid it was not as romantic as Paris, but we met at a bar in New York. Sam was working as a corporate lawyer and I was meeting with some acquaintances that Alex and I have in common,” or code for, Natasha knew you were behind the death of the HYDRA agents. “I would not say it was love at first sight.”

Sam laughed out loud, his hand clutching his chest. “Oh, you could say that. If I remember correctly, you kicked my ass to Sunday at pool.”

You smirked. It had not been the night they had met but in fact, the night before you accompanied Steve and Bucky to Wakanda. Where you held Steve’s hand tightly as Bucky fell asleep into the cryo chamber, your heartbreaking over the recapitulating image of Steve’s lips against Sharon’s burning your memory. Your heart stripping apart as Steve’s pain overwhelmed yours, your empathic powers recalcitrant as you opened yourself to his consciousness. 

It was not long after you took to the winds, taking refuge in your rage as you sought out HYDRA agents on your own. 

“Good evening ladies and gentlemen,” the dark, luscious, deep voice sent a chill down your spine, “my name is Walter and I will be your server tonight.” You dared to look up, your eyes locking with Steve’s instantly. Fuck, he looked good. His hair was longer, darker; his beard grown out and rugged. He was an honest to god lumberjack. And fuck he looked good. 

You scoffed at the name, it was Steve to the core. He raised a thick eyebrow and smirked until his eyes fell to Alex’s hand caressing your thigh. His lips set in a firm line and he gave you his signature “Captain-America’s-not-impressed” glare, and you smirked. Fuck Steve. Fuck Sharon. Your hand came to rest against Alex’s thigh, right near his crotch, Steve’s eyes fixed on yours. You could practically feel Sam cringing at your exchange. 

“Would you like to hear the drink’s special tonight?” Steve, ahem, Walter asked, his iPad at the ready. His body was tense and you couldn’t help but lap up his vexation, Alex linking your hands together, whispering a filthy promise in your ear. You let out a husky giggle, your fingers trailing his chest as you whispered back, eyes fixed on Steve. “It’s called The Slut. It’s a bitter mix of in-season citrus, vodka and pomegranate juice.”

You raised an eyebrow questioningly as Steve smirked. Well, that hit a nerve. Sam let out an uncomfortable laugh and ordered a bottle of champagne for the table. Steve retreated to the bar and you shifted uncomfortably in your chair.

“Are you okay, my love?” Alex whispered into your ear. 

“Yes, it’s just a little warm,” you lied. Only Steve could get under your skin like this, his bitterness caressing your senses, icy blue cracking at your wall. You could feel Steve’s eyes fixated on you as he approached with the ice bucket and champagne. Well, if it was a game he wanted, he would have a game. You pulled Alex into a searing kiss. “I can’t wait to take you back to our villa and show you how much I really love you,” you whispered huskily, all too aware that Steve could hear you. “Maybe I’ll let you tie me to the bed and have your filthy way with me.”

Alex chuckled, his eyes blown. “Well, darling, I hope you’re prepared for a long night because I have a few things in mind that I’d like to do to you.”

You both jumped as a petty Steve dropped the ice bucket onto the table. “My apologies. Are you ready to order?”

You mulled over the menu as your guests and Alex placed their orders, Steve’s eyes all but burning a hole in your skin. You didn’t need to feel his eyes on you to know he was seething. His rage and jealousy bled through your empathetic walls, consuming your control. Steve Rogers was uncontaminated, tactile, loyal, passionate and pure rage. He was rich turquoise and red, melting and contaminating each other. You were drowning in his despair; the image of his hand clutching yours as Bucky succumbed to the cryo process, the silent tears bristling was ingrained in your memory. 

“And for you, madam?” Steve’s cheery voice might have hidden the bitter feelings underneath, but you knew. They pricked at you like a fine needle.

“Walter, are you a fan of mutton? I fancy some meat, but I’m not sure if I should have the prime rib or the mutton. Is it slow-cooked? I only ask because you look like a fan of old meat. Sorry, I meant tough meat.” Sam choked on his champagne, Natasha failing to hide the chuckle that escaped her lips. 

The seething fury seeping from Steve was an overwhelming ferrari red, but you checked yourself and smirked. Steve might be able to dish it but he was the last person on this earth to take criticism. And that only fuelled your desire to punish him. Because Sharon Carter was mutton, trailer trash and Steve had put his pure and luscious lips on her. 

  


And yes, three years on you were still a salty bitch about it. What of it?

“Actually ma’am, might I recommend the salt and pepper squid, it would complement your obvious salty palate.” You couldn’t help but scoff. Victory was in fact sweet not salty.

“You’re absolutely right, Walter, I do have a salty palate. The salt and pepper squid sounds delicious. Might I have a side of extra salty fries?”

Sam scoffed and Natasha hid behind her menu. Alex watched on in confusion. “I’m sorry, do you two know each other?”

Steve’s discomfort ripped through you like lightning. You laughed lightly and placed a heated kiss against Alex’s soft lips. “No baby, Walter and I are just joking. Right, Walter?”

Steve glared at you before sulking off to the kitchen to place your order, Alex protectively wrapping his arm around your shoulders. “Darling, would you like me to speak to the manager?”

Ah, there he was, Knight-in-shining-armour Alex, stepping in because you were so defenceless. If only he knew. 

You feigned a smile and brushed your lips against his as Steve returned to the table. “Oh Alex, you are so sweet. You’re always trying to protect me. I’m fine, I promise. Besides, you know how I am when I’m all riled up,” you grinned salaciously, your fingers languidly running through his hair.

You deserved an Oscar for your performance. 

You made polite, nondescript conversation with Sam whilst Natasha and Alex dove straight into business. There was little point in trying to join in the conversation, Steve had essentially usurped your mission, besides, punishing your former best friend was an amusement all in itself.

Sam leant closer to you, Alex deep in discussion and his attention elsewhere. Sam’s warm, calming hand came to rest on your thigh. “He misses you, more than he will admit. And we both know he won’t admit it, because he’s a stubborn son of a bitch, but he’s been a miserable, infuriating bastard.”

You sighed and clutched Sam’s hand, feeding on his calming warmth. Sam was rich flaxen; the kind of warm lemon on a Mediterranian backdrop. A golden, rising sun, kissing your skin as you lay under its heat. He could always warm you when you were chilled to the bone. Calm you when your heart would not slow. 

“I couldn’t stay, Sam,” you confessed quietly, leaning towards him, keeping enough distance to look amiable and friendly. “I needed to be by myself.”

“Is this because Steve kissed Sharon?” You felt him stiffen as you hang your head in embarrassment, shame. “Baby, I know you were hurting, but you didn’t need to run. Nat and I have your back.” 

You shook your head and scoffed, streams of red and blue overwhelming you. “I couldn’t stay, Sam,” you reiterated. You couldn’t say much, you knew Steve was listening, but Sam knew. He knew you had loved Steve for so long, pined for him, never working up the courage to confess your feelings. Sam knew that when you sat in that bug and watched Steve kiss Sharon in that car park your heart broke. You had lost control of your emotions and projected your pain onto Bucky and Sam. You hadn’t meant to. You had never wanted to lose control like that.

Sam had reached back into the shitty old bug and firmly squeezed your hand, reassuring you that it would be okay, your head drowning with rage and white noise. Bucky watched you, his beautiful silver aura warming as he watched you, his face etched with concern. 

You were pulled by the memory as Steve dropped your salad in front of you. His icy blue aura had completely overtaken the sweet, swelling red. The ice blue warmed as he revelled in your discomfort. 

Dinner dragged on as Alex ordered a second bottle of champagne, his attention directly on Natasha and their business deal. 

“What are you planning for him?” you asked Sam quietly behind your dessert menus. Sam shared a look, they were going to kill him. “You can’t. There are still so many out there…”

“Baby,” Sam drawled in his dark, rich voice, his beautiful sunny yellow clouding over you, “you know Steve won’t back down.”

“The world does not revolve around Captain Fuckwit and his ego. Please, Sam, I’m doing this for Bucky.”

Steve cleared his throat behind you, the familiar hot red seeping over you. “Can I offer you any dessert?”

You’d had enough. Fuck Steve Rogers. “Actually, Alex love, I’ve got a bit of a headache starting, I might just head back to the villa.”

Alex immediately caressed your cheek, his glacier eyes searching yours. “Okay, Natasha and I can finish this discussion tomorrow.”

You bid the group good night and you allowed Alex to lead you back to your villa, bracing yourself for a long night ahead. You knew Steve would strike, but when you did not know. You were not privy to Alex’s conversation with Natasha. Had he confessed? 

The closing door sent a shiver down your spine. “Take your kaftan off and wait for me on the bed, my pet.” Alex’s customary warm, loving voice was replaced with a cold, sinister tone. His dark grey now black. Bucky’s grey never grew black, not even as the Winter Soldier.

Unlike your fellow Avenger’s you did not possess the strength or speed to escape Alex, whatever his plans. Your eyes trained around the room, searching for a possible weapon as you seductively let the kaftan drift to the floor, revealing your delicate, lace lingerie that left little to the imagination. 

You knelt in the centre of the bed, the letter opener carefully hidden under the throw, within reach. You needed to play this right. 

Alex knelt behind you, his hands deftly caressing your shoulders as his lips pressed against your skin, before handcuffing your hands behind your back. This was a game you were all too aware of. “You, my little pet, have not been entirely forthcoming,” his hand gently wrapped around your neck. “You think I didn’t notice your flirtations with Mr Lewinski, or should I say, Sam Wilson.”

You stilled immediately. “Alex…”

“Shut up,” he growled, tilting your head back to look him straight in the eyes. “Did you honestly think I would not notice the trail of dead bodies left in my wake? Did you think I could not practically feel the jealousy seeping off of Mr Steve Rogers? What’s the deal there, my pet? Did you two used to fuck?” You sobbed as his hand clutched your hair, his thumb pressing into your windpipe. “Oh, you were in love?”

“If you knew,” you struggled, “why didn’t you stop me?”

“You were killing the scourge of our great organisation and you’ve been a nice toy to play with. You’ve been my good little fuck toy, haven’t you, my pet?” He was raging, pulsing black. “It’s such a shame we can’t continue our romance, but unfortunately I have better things to do with my time.” You tried to reach the letter opener, but Alex beat you to it, pressing the metal against your neck. “Thank you for being so prepared for me, darling. You’re not nearly as subtle as you would like to think.”

You fought against your restraints as Alex slowly drew the letter opener across your neck, the blunt blade putting pressure against your neck, and dragged it lower to rest between your breasts.

“It’s such a shame, my pet. I was growing to like you, despite your selfish lies and deceit.”

The calming sense of it ending took ahold as you took a deep breath and closed your eyes before you could feel the warmth of red. You opened your eyes to see Alex laying on the bed, his throat slit open, Steve standing over you both. 

“Doll?” You look down to see blood splatter painting your skin and then up to see Natasha and Sam standing in the doorway, Steve’s eyes trailing down your almost naked body. “Doll, speak to me. Are you okay? Did he hurt you?” You could only nod, your lips quivering, the salty tears trailing down your skin. “I’m going to get her out of here. Can you take care of him?”

“Of course,” you hear Natasha say with her emerald calmness, “we will see you back at the villa.”

Warm hands came to rest on your cheeks, drawing your attention to those inquisitive, calm cobalt eyes. “Sweetheart, you’re in shock. I’m going to take these cuffs off and we are going to get out of here.”

You barely felt the cuffs come away from your hands, Steve wrapping your body in a bathrobe, before leading you from your palatial villa. The drive to the staff villa’s was short but silent. Your body shook as you tried to come to terms with what had happened. How could you be so stupid? How long had he known? 

The overwhelming sea blue slowly blanketed your anxiety, Steve’s hands ever-present on you. His warm, soothing voice just a mumble in the sea of noise in your head. Warm hands grasped your waist pulling you from the truck as the sea of blue washed over the complex sea of red. 

“Steve?” You stop at the door to the ensuite as he busies himself turning on the shower.

“I know doll,” he says softly, coming to stand before you, his hands cupping your cheeks. “You’re safe, I promise. He’s gone.”

“He knew Steve, he knew I was…”

Steve let his forehead rest against yours as he pulled you against him. “I know, doll, but you did so well. We’ve been following your trail for months. All for Bucky right?” You could only nod. “Have a shower, sweetheart. I will leave some clothes on the side for you and we can debrief after. Okay?”

Red tainted the pure clear water as you washed clean, scrubbing your skin raw of Alex’s blood, his touches, his caresses. Months of allowing him to manipulate you, fuck you. A weight lifting off your shoulders as blood and dirt washed down the drain. 

You dressed in the softest oversized sweatshirt and pants, laced with the distinct aroma that you knew was Steve’s. You made your way into the bedroom to see Steve waiting patiently on the bed.

“Sweetheart…” 

You cut him off, placing your lips softly against his, his hands coming to sit on your waist as you sat on his lap. “Please Steve,” you begged softly, your hands pulling up the hem of his shirt and removing it from his perfectly shaped upper body, tossing the shirt aside. You could feel the warm turquoise; confusion, love, fading restraint. “Tell me Sharon isn’t in the picture.”

“Is that why you left?” His depleted face pricked at your heart. “Doll, kissing Sharon was a moment of weakness. I’ve always loved you but I was too afraid to be honest with myself until I lost you.”

Tears pricked your eyes as your hands cupped his cheeks. “I fell for you when you saved me from Strucker’s lab.”

“Why didn’t you say anything?” His hands mimicked yours, his desperation seeped through your walls.

“Why didn’t you say anything? We are both just stubborn, scared and think the other deserves better.”

His lips met yours in a soft, pillowy manner, his warm, blue and red emotions meeting in harmony and crushing through your defensive walls. You were pliable velvet as his hands slowly pulled your sweatshirt up and gently removing the garment before his hands deftly took your breasts in his hands. “God, sweetheart, you have no idea how many times I’ve dreamt of this moment.” Your hands grip his long, auburn hair as you slowly grind into his lap. 

His hands were everywhere, all-consuming as your emotions flowed through to him. The barrier you had held up for months, blocking out Alex from your own, vulnerable and charred emotions, was gone. Knocked down by Steve. There was no way to stop your emotions from escaping and infiltrating Steve. 

You took your time, touching, kissing his honeyed, soft, supple skin as you ground against his hardening cock. 

Steve gently flipped you onto the bed, idly removing your sweatpants before his own. Resting on his elbow, he moved your hands to rest above your hand, exposing your body to him. “You are so beautiful, doll. Perfect.” God, scars, moles, stretch marks and all, you felt like a goddess under his warm, blue, truthful eyes. 

A searing kiss and he was above you, his unworldly warm body pressing you into the mattress. Your hands gripped his luscious locks as his fingers trailed along your lips, his lips locked against yours. A dexterous finger slowly entered you and you moaned against Steve’s persistent lips. 

“You’re so wet, sweetheart,” he crooned, his eyes locked on yours as you bucked your hips to meet his thrusting finger. “Is that for me?”

“Please Steve, I need you,” you begged, your fingers gripping his back. 

In one, graceful swift motion his cock replaced his lithe finger, a sea of warm turquoise and red marble washing over you as your walls stretched around him. Heated lips ghosted your face and lips as his hips rolled against yours. Thick, long fingers linked with yours, pressing them firmly into the bed above your head. 

“I should never have let you leave,” Steve groaned, though it bordered on an embarrassing whine if truth be told. “I missed you so, so much. I didn’t mean those things I said at the table,” his hot hand caressing your cheek, a wave of navy flowing through you.

Your hands clung to his face as you moved with him, hushing him. “Please Steve, make me come. Make me yours.”

It took all of Steve’s whittling self-control to keep from pounding you into the mattress. He wanted to make love to you, hold you for hours, drawing orgasm after orgasm from your exhausted body. But, with a dead body on their hands, time was precious and limited. 

“I will, love,” he promised, his thrusts becoming jagged and firm, his fingers finding your swollen clit, “and then we’re going to get out of here. We can go somewhere safe,” a grin formed as you whimpered against the ebb and flow of your building orgasm, “and then we will have all the time in the world to take this slow.”

“Oh god, please,” you were not in the least bit embarrassed at how pathetically desperate you sounded, “please, Steve.”

Steve caged you against the bed, your legs haphazardly thrown around his hips, his hands carded in your hair, his strong arms against your face, fucking you into the mattress, grinding against your clit. Your hands clung to his back, your wails resonating in the air as you came hard, your walls clinging to his cock as he came hard. 

A fusion of burnt orange, cherry red and royal blue flooded the room as he held you close, the highs of your orgasms circulating the room. 

“Is it always like that?” Steve asked weakly, his eyes searching yours, his lips seeking refuge against your skin. “The colours. They were everywhere.”

“It’s never been that intense,” you confessed, your fingers lazily running over his skin. “I love you, Steve.”

“I love you, too.”

A curt knock at the door drew your lips from each other, a wash of sunny yellow breaking through the blue. “Hey, I hate to break up the lovefest but we need to get out of here,” Sam’s voice broke through the closed door. 

“We’re coming,” Steve called out. 

“You sure are,” Sam huffed stomping away from the door.

  


**Author's Note:**

> Please feel free to leave comments - they are air.


End file.
